


Love Light

by Pteropoda (SilentP)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5093099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentP/pseuds/Pteropoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inconsequential, unconnected, but endearing moments along the way to the Knights of Cybertron. </p><p>Stories have no continuity or crossover. Chapters are titled with pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drift/Perceptor: stress

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles are a result of me accepting prompts over the summer. None of them are quite large enough to be posted on their own, but this collection is some of them that I'm fond of. They've only been minimally edited, if at all, since I wrote them.

“Drift?”

Drift glanced up briefly from the stack of datapads on his desk to turn a brief, distracted smile on Perceptor. It only lasted a moment before he turned his attention back to the piles in front of him. “Hey, Percy. Uh, sorry, I can help you in a bit, I just need to find this first…”

Perceptor glanced around the room, taking in the towering stacks of datapads, the scattered remains of quickly-consumed energon, and the twitchy nervous way Drift’s optics darted around his desk as he shuffled through the piles. He considered the datapad that had brought him here—a minor issue, an excuse, really—and tucked it to the side. “Do you need assistance?” he asked.

“No I don’t,” Drift said, shaking his head as he continued to poke haphazardly through the mess. “It’ll just be a second, Percy, don’t worry about it.”

“Well then,” Perceptor said, nodding and taking a seat off to the side of Drift’s office after carefully removing an empty glass from it, “I can wait.”

Drift gave him a relieved smile and turned his attention back to his search. At first, the reassurance from Perceptor seemed enough to relax him, but as time continued to drag on with no results Drift’s movements began to become jerky and worried again.

“Drift,” Perceptor said again, gently, but Drift still flinched at the sound of his voice. “What is it that you’re looking for?”

Drift’s shoulders hunched defensively at first, but slowly they slumped. He grimaced. “Rodimus wants one of the supply requisitions that Ultra Magnus gave him and he passed on to me, because Ultra Magnus wants it back, but I don’t know where it is,” he admitted unhappily.

“And I take it you don’t have a system for them?” Perceptor asked, eyeing the loose piles. Drift only looked at him in despair. “Very well. I can help you look, and afterwards we shall see about neatening this mess.”

“Thanks, Perceptor,” Drift said, voice wavering with relief, but Perceptor did him the favor of not saying anything about it.


	2. Drift/Perceptor: soft

“You’re making that face again,” Drift said fondly. He was sitting across from Perceptor, his chin propped on his hands as he watched him work.

“Pardon?” Perceptor asked, glancing up from his datapad to give Drift a confused look. “What face?”

Drift smiled peacefully back. “The happy face,” he told Perceptor. “You get softer when you’re doing something you like.”

“Softer?” Perceptor asked, flustered. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

“I mean you stop being so… what’s the word? Stern,” Drift said, beaming. “You stop being the scary sniper and you start doing what you love.”

“Oh dear,” Perceptor said, frowning worriedly down at his datapad. “I don’t do it often, do I? That is to say- when I’m working?”

“Not that I can tell,” Drift said. “I mean, you only do it when it’s quiet, really. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it except when it’s just the two of us.” If anything, he was happier at that, but he paused when he caught sight of Percceptor’s downcast expression. “Percy?”

Perceptor startled into looking up again, then shook his head. “My apologies,” he said quickly. “I simply had not realized. Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention.”

Drift watched him worriedly for a moment before he caught the flash of pink to Perceptor’s cheeks, and his smile grew once again. “I figured you hadn’t,” Drift said. “That’s what makes it so cute.”


	3. Skids/Rung: "inappropriate"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the name, not NSFW.

“Skids!” Rung protested, but he was laughing as Skids hoisted him up over his shoulder. “This is inappropriate!”

Skids just laughed in return, and adjusted his grip so that Rung would not fall. He even moved one of his back panels so that Rung could grab it for extra security. “Then it’s a good thing that no one’s around!” he said boisterously.

Rung fumbled for his glasses with his free hand to prevent them from sliding down his face. “Really, Skids, I can walk, there’s no need to carry me!”

Skids shrugged, winning another burst of startled laughter from Rung as he did. “We could have done this the easy way, but you forced me to take drastic measures,” he said. “Now come on, it’s into the baths with you! It’s good for your recovery and I won’t hear otherwise.”


	4. Skids/Rung: self-conscious

“You’re sure?” Skids asked, frowning worriedly down at Rung.

“Ah… yes,” Rung said with a weak smile. “I’m afraid I have never much been one for dancing. Don’t worry,” he added, catching Skids’ lingering frown. “I’ll quite enjoy myself watching. Never mind me, I’ll be right here.”

“If you’re sure,” Skids repeated, taking a hesitant step back toward the dance floor. “I’ll stop by later.”

“Of course,” Rung said, patting Skids’ hand where it remained rested on his shoulder. “Go have fun.” He watched as Skids finally headed away from the sidelines, moving through the crowds with an ease Rung could admit that he envied.

But instead of disappearing entirely into the crush of mechs, Skids stuck to the edge of the crowd not far from Rung, and while he did immerse himself in the dancing, finding and switching partners with ease based on some intangible rules of the party, he occasionally glanced up toward Rung, and smiled every time he saw that Rung was still there.

Rung couldn’t help but smile back every time Skids perked up when seeing him, and he made eye contact occasionally, but he was still surprised when, five dances later, Skids made his way over to Rung again and dropped into a seat at his side.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Well,” Rung said truthfully. “You seemed to be having fun out there.”

“Yeah,” Skids said, grinning. “Maybe someday I’ll convince you to join me.”

“I appreciate the thought,” Rung said, “but perhaps another time.”

“Well then,” Skids said, stretching his arms up over his head, then slumping down. “I need to take a breather. Mind if I keep you company?”

“Not at all,” Rung said, a fondness creeping into his voice that he didn't try to hide. Skids pressed closer to his side, and he didn't feel quite so bad for sitting on the sidelines any more.


End file.
